


aftermath

by asterismos



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Gen, Nightmares, Post-The Blood of Olympus, Post-The Heroes of Olympus, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:25:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterismos/pseuds/asterismos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The memory of Tartarus cannot be so easily forgotten. It's a nightmare that never ends, and theirs is just beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nico

**Author's Note:**

> This kind of just happened while I was feeling really sad and I also wanted to write about how Tartarus affected the only three who survived it. It's super short and hasn't been beta'ed. Enjoy the light angst. x

It's a Friday night and everyone is currently having dinner in the mess hall, all laughs and smiles that don't quite meet their eyes. Six months have gone by since the war with Gaea but no mind has forgotten the losses that followed it and the hardship that preceded it. Nobody has yet passed Half-Blood Hill without their shoulders slouching in grief, their heads bowing as if in prayer. No soul wakes in the morning without first being woken at odd hours, consumed in terror, plagued by nightmares.

A lone demigod patrols the border of the camp, thankful to be away from the crowds. His dark eyes are sunken; they appear dull, almost, as if he stared into the depths of Tartarus, which one will find to be truth. His skin is pale, almost sickly—a stark contrast to his raven-colored hair, which falls around his face with reckless abandon. His hand clutches the hilt of his sword tightly, his senses on high alert for any sign of danger. He whips around at every sound, bad memories fueling his paranoia. 

"Nico?" a voice calls. The dark-haired boy startles at the sound of his name but relaxes when he recognizes the voice.

"Hey, Jason," he greets casually. He scans the area behind his friend, not entirely convinced it's safe even when he's sure there is nothing there. Jason smiles weakly but as genuinely as he can manage at Nico, his knuckles white due to his grip on the hilt of his own Imperial gold sword.

"You can come to the dining hall, you know," Jason says. His shoulders are tense. He's expecting some kind of attack even though the camp's borders are magically enforced and well-protected, even though the train of thought that fills his mind— _ A basilisk could easily hide there. That shrub looks an awful lot like a monster... Was that shadow moving? _ —is completely irrational. "Percy's been trying to talk to you."

"About what?" 

But Nico knows. Gods, he knows exactly what Percy wants to talk about and he dreads the moment he'll have to speak about it, the moment he'll have to remember the days of torture.

There's a moment of hesitation, of silence, from Jason before he says it—" _ Tartarus _ ."—and the single word hangs in the air by a fraying thread. Jason watches Nico carefully, gauging his reaction. Nico's expression remains neutral, though his eyes are filled with torment. For the past six months, he had tried, unsuccessfully, to push those memories away, to annihilate the feeling of anguish that had overcome him in his days wasting away underneath Rome in that gods-forsaken bronze jar. To no avail, however, the hell he'd literally gone through plagued his mind every day, all day, and seeped into his dreams. It was an endless, vicious cycle of torture.

"It can wait," Nico replies. "It's not safe."

"Nico," Jason starts, but Nico isn't having any of it.

"I have to make sure—it has to be safe." Jason tries to speak again. Nico doesn't wait. "It has to be safe! I can't—if it's not—I..."

Nico continues, his words becoming borderline hysterical. Jason sees it coming. He ducks as Nico lashes out, the Stygian iron sword passing over his head with record-breaking speed. Jason steps back and quickly disarms Nico, who's too hysterical to fight properly. As the blade clatters to the ground behind them, Jason hurriedly steps towards Nico again and wraps his arms around him tightly. He summons a gust of wind, taking them both into the air.

The son of Hades doesn't stop resisting until his feet touch the ground again. His arms wind around Jason and he buries his head into the older boy's chest. He doesn't do anything else; doesn't cry, doesn't talk—nothing. They stand in silence as Nico recollects himself. Time passes. Maybe it’s hours, minutes, seconds. He backs away from the hug and stands up straighter, his eyes filled with determination.

Nico says, "So Hazel called me last week."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Apparently, she and Frank had to control another unicorn stampede."

And just like that, the moment of vulnerability is over.


	2. Percy

It's a quarter past nine and there are dark clouds overhead, rolling unsteadily as the wind picks up. Thunder rumbles lowly in the distance. For a moment—for one, fleeting second—Percy thinks the clouds pick up a reddish tint... almost a crimson shade—like blood. The next instant, lightning flashes. He jumps at the sound, struck with sudden fear at the dark purple forks that cross the sky. But... but that can't be possible.

_ No, no, no. _

Percy casts his eyes downward, determined to keep his mind off of the one place that constantly haunts him. His attempts are in vain; it's memory is tattooed to the inside of his eyelids.

_ No. _

As Percy makes his way across camp, the earth beneath him begins to deform before his eyes, taking on the appearance of a barren, jagged landscape that only goes downhill. He blinks many times, certain his eyes are playing tricks on him, but the sight remains the same. He staggers, terror beginning to overwhelm him as memories of that living hell resurface. Then he blinks—he's back at camp.

_ Stop. _

Percy hurries to his cabin, now fueled by utter perseverance and an unwillingness to let terror consume him yet again. The sounds of his shoes squelching in the mud as he runs are disgustingly loud and almost remind him of his legs being sucked into the earth as the earth itself awoke, of nearly drowning in the land beyond the gods.

**_Stop._ **

His cabin is in sight now. Just a few hundred feet ahead. Lightning flashes overhead. Thunder crashes all around—or were those war cannons? Is there even a difference? Someone from the Aphrodite cabin greets Percy with a somewhat flirty smile and a wave, but it very well could've been an empousa. He doesn't stop to find out. He keeps running all the way to Cabin Three, panting hard as he throws open the door. He shuts it just as heavily behind him and scans the interior of his cabin for any signs of immediate danger.

The coast is clear—but not for long.

He readies himself for bed but doesn't immediately shut his eyes, terrified of what he knows awaits him. He knows that, as soon as he falls asleep, he will be plagued by nightmares of the wretched place he wishes so badly he could just forget. Sometimes, he considers taking a swim in the waters of the Lethe, if only to tear Tartarus from his memory.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to subscribe, comment, and/or leave kudos! Have a lovely day/evening/sleep.
> 
> Also, you should totally check out the novel I'm working on, Beyond the Trees: https://www.wattpad.com/story/75854686-beyond-the-trees-book-one  
> I guarantee you will not regret it.
> 
> All the love,  
> Cass xx


End file.
